Post by budgie on Dec 2, 2020 12:28:52 GMT -6
Liz
rogue
thin torbie she-cat with green eyes
rogue
she-cat
77 moons
Appearance
Skinny and small, Liz is not an intimidating cat at first glance. And that's the way she likes it—the more helpless she looks, the easier it is for her to fool cats into taking pity on her. Seasons of malnutrition are visible in her pronounced spine and gaunt face. Her namesake—a thin, long, lizard-like tail—drags the ground behind her when she walks.
Her pelt is a mix of tortoiseshell splotches and tabby stripes across her body, save for some white fur around her mouth on on her chest. Most of her markings are a brown-grey color, with only a few light ginger spots here and there.
Liz's face is about as warm and friendly as a reptile's, too, with green eyes that always seem to be narrows in suspicion. Her chin and the tips of her ears narrow into points, a warning of her sharp, prickly nature.
Her pelt is a mix of tortoiseshell splotches and tabby stripes across her body, save for some white fur around her mouth on on her chest. Most of her markings are a brown-grey color, with only a few light ginger spots here and there.
Liz's face is about as warm and friendly as a reptile's, too, with green eyes that always seem to be narrows in suspicion. Her chin and the tips of her ears narrow into points, a warning of her sharp, prickly nature.
Personality
+ Independent
Not a huge fan of company, Liz would rather do things on her own. After all, she’s been on her own for so many seasons now and gotten by just fine—why go and change that now? An independent thinker as well, she is not easily swayed by the feelings or opinions of others.
+ Resourceful
Liz would not be alive right now if not for her creativity and resourcefulness. Not a particularly skilled hunter, she’s had to work out other ways to keep herself fed, like raiding birds nests for eggs or walking up and down the lakeshore when the sun goes down and the tide recedes, hoping for an unlucky fish.
Her resourcefulness also lends itself to her ultimate goal—to get off this forsaken island! You can often find her tinkering with new ideas, though not all of them are very clever...or safe.
- Lazy
Even being trapped on an island hasn’t motivated Liz to brush up on her hunting skills. She’d rather laze on a warm rock than try to fill her belly with something other than egg yolk or decaying fish.
- Pessimistic
Seasons of frustration and loneliness on the island have made Liz bitter, and she has begun to lose hope and harbors a very bleak outlook on life.
- Kleptomaniac
Her mate used to call her “Sticky Paws” because she couldn’t help but steal things that interested her. Boaters on the mainland dock where she grew up would find that their sunglasses, hats, even their wallets would disappear from their boat decks, all to end up in the abandoned lighthouse Liz once called home.
Not a huge fan of company, Liz would rather do things on her own. After all, she’s been on her own for so many seasons now and gotten by just fine—why go and change that now? An independent thinker as well, she is not easily swayed by the feelings or opinions of others.
+ Resourceful
Liz would not be alive right now if not for her creativity and resourcefulness. Not a particularly skilled hunter, she’s had to work out other ways to keep herself fed, like raiding birds nests for eggs or walking up and down the lakeshore when the sun goes down and the tide recedes, hoping for an unlucky fish.
Her resourcefulness also lends itself to her ultimate goal—to get off this forsaken island! You can often find her tinkering with new ideas, though not all of them are very clever...or safe.
- Lazy
Even being trapped on an island hasn’t motivated Liz to brush up on her hunting skills. She’d rather laze on a warm rock than try to fill her belly with something other than egg yolk or decaying fish.
- Pessimistic
Seasons of frustration and loneliness on the island have made Liz bitter, and she has begun to lose hope and harbors a very bleak outlook on life.
- Kleptomaniac
Her mate used to call her “Sticky Paws” because she couldn’t help but steal things that interested her. Boaters on the mainland dock where she grew up would find that their sunglasses, hats, even their wallets would disappear from their boat decks, all to end up in the abandoned lighthouse Liz once called home.
History
PART 1: THE MAINLAND.
Born alongside two stillborn siblings underneath a mainland dock, Liz’s only family is her sharp-tongued mother, Jinx. Jinx bothered to teach her daughter the basics of survival—don’t let the humans touch you, but don’t bite them or you’ll be killed. That was rule number one, and it was easy enough to follow, especially when being nice to the humans got you free food sometimes. Just don’t be so nice that they want to take you back to their cement den.
But as soon as Liz was old enough to look after herself, her mother abandoned her. Liz always assumed it was to run off with another tom, have more kits, abandon them and repeat the cycle. She still wonders how many half brothers and sisters she has on the mainland, blood relatives who don’t even know she exists.
Liz got along well enough as a young cat living alone on the docks. There were always humans about, lounging on the docks or camping on the beach. The livin’ was easy—until her first winter rolled around.
The humans suddenly stopped coming, and there was no more food to beg for or steal. Desperate for shelter and food, she walked along the shore until her paws could barely carry her any more. That was when she found it—the abandoned lighthouse. It was musty and rundown, but it provided shelter from the cold, and even provided a steady supply of mice who had the same idea. As she started to gulp down the mouse that had practically run into her paws, a booming voice made her jump out of her skin.
“You lost, kitten?”
The voice would turn out to be Lucia, a mottled grey molly larger than any cat scrawny Liz had ever seen. But when Liz didn’t cower from her presence, Lucia took a liking to the scrappy torbie, and the two got on like they had always known each other.
Seasons passed, and Liz was happy with her life in the lighthouse with Lucia. Heck, she was more than happy—she was in love with the boulder of a she-cat.
PART 2: THE STOW AWAY.
Liz and Lucia were well known among the small group of cats who called the docks and surrounding campgrounds home. They were particularly savvy with humans, and knew some of the regulars so well they could sneak aboard their boats with ease.
As they fell asleep in their corner of the lighthouse each night, Lucia would talk of her dreams to explore—to go wherever those huge boats were going. Liz thought she was ridiculous—to her, they had everything they could ever want right here.
But on that fateful spring day, Lucia had finally convinced Liz to stowaway on a boat with her, to see where it would take them. Liz would have done anything for her mate, and reminded herself of that fact as she reluctantly climbed aboard the boat that would seal her fate.
As the boat raised anchor and started to slowly drift toward the open water, Lucia suddenly bolted from her side. Liz was quick to follow, but her mate was already perched at the edge of the boat, preparing to jump back onto the dock.
“What are you doing! This was your idea!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I--”
Before she could explain, she leapt—her claws just barely made contact with the last wood piling and she scrambled up it, casting a pleading look back at the cat she left behind.
But as the boat moved farther and farther from the dock, Liz’s paws seemed to become heavier and heavier. The jump alone was terrifying, but the shock of what had just happened was what rooted her to the edge of the boat.
It would be ok—most boats stayed at their dock more than one day. She’d be back before sundown.
Yes, she’d be back.
PART 3: THE CASTAWAY.
As the boat docked, Liz was disappointed to find that her surroundings didn’t look all that different—same trees, same rocks, just fewer humans and human things. It made her even angrier with Lucia, who had painted such a fantastical picture of the world beyond the water.
Surely, there had to be more than this! She decided she’d make her mate feel extra bad about ditching her by finding her a souvenir—something they didn’t have back on their shore. She leapt off the boat while the human family was still meandering about below deck and set off in search of the perfect gift.
The human campgrounds she came across were unsettling, at best—most of them looked like they hadn’t been touched in seasons. Still, she pressed on, stubborn determination keeping her from turning back. Finally, she found it—a patch of orange flowers she had never seen before, bright like the summer sun. She tried to grab the pretty, papery blooms in her jaws, but grabbed one of the hard, dried flower pods too, spilling the small seeds into her mouth. Annoyed, but not willing to put her flowers down, she didn’t bother to spit them out.
Unaware that she had just ingested a mess of poppy seeds, Liz trotted back toward the boat with an extra spring in her step—that is, until the seeds started to kick in.
It had been a long day, and families took their boats out for the whole day...surely a few minutes of shut-eye would be fine. Letting the flowers fall gently from her maw, she curled up under the nearest tree and closer her eyes.
When she opened them again, it was pitch dark. Jolted awake, she sprinted toward the shore, but it was too late—the boat was gone. She ran up and down the shore, but the white hull was nowhere to be found. She searched ‘til the sun came up, and she was too exhausted to go on. The orange petals were right where she left them.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to seasons, and still no boats came back to the small dock. Every day, twice a day, she sits at the dock and stares out at the water, waiting for the boat that will take her home. Back to Lucia.
Does she even want me back? Did she jump off that boat hoping to get rid of me?
It’s not a thought she can afford to think. Without something—someone to live for, was her life even worth living?
PRESENT DAY
During her first seasons on the island, Liz was desperate to leave, nearly drowning during several attempts to swim or float away on a piece of driftwood. After moons of trying and endless disappointment, Liz has become a bitter, pessimistic cat, with little to no hope of actually accomplishing her goal. Instead, she has finally seemed to resign herself to island life.
Over the moons, she discovered she wasn't alone—rather far from it, actually. She has general knowledge of the three clans from observing them and the occasional curt conversation with a fellow "loner", a title she finds quite fitting.
Instead of spending all her time devising new ways to get off the island, she has picked up her old collection hobby. There are few shiny human objects to steal here, so shells, bones, and rocks have to do. Not flowers, though—turns out flower collecting is a bit of a dangerous hobby. She confirmed her suspicion about the poppy seeds with a second taste-test, and found they knocked her out in the same way.
The same seed that got her stuck on this stupid island is now the only thing keeping her sane. She's been desperate enough to sneak into clan territory for more, and it's only a matter of time before she's caught.
Born alongside two stillborn siblings underneath a mainland dock, Liz’s only family is her sharp-tongued mother, Jinx. Jinx bothered to teach her daughter the basics of survival—don’t let the humans touch you, but don’t bite them or you’ll be killed. That was rule number one, and it was easy enough to follow, especially when being nice to the humans got you free food sometimes. Just don’t be so nice that they want to take you back to their cement den.
But as soon as Liz was old enough to look after herself, her mother abandoned her. Liz always assumed it was to run off with another tom, have more kits, abandon them and repeat the cycle. She still wonders how many half brothers and sisters she has on the mainland, blood relatives who don’t even know she exists.
Liz got along well enough as a young cat living alone on the docks. There were always humans about, lounging on the docks or camping on the beach. The livin’ was easy—until her first winter rolled around.
The humans suddenly stopped coming, and there was no more food to beg for or steal. Desperate for shelter and food, she walked along the shore until her paws could barely carry her any more. That was when she found it—the abandoned lighthouse. It was musty and rundown, but it provided shelter from the cold, and even provided a steady supply of mice who had the same idea. As she started to gulp down the mouse that had practically run into her paws, a booming voice made her jump out of her skin.
“You lost, kitten?”
The voice would turn out to be Lucia, a mottled grey molly larger than any cat scrawny Liz had ever seen. But when Liz didn’t cower from her presence, Lucia took a liking to the scrappy torbie, and the two got on like they had always known each other.
Seasons passed, and Liz was happy with her life in the lighthouse with Lucia. Heck, she was more than happy—she was in love with the boulder of a she-cat.
PART 2: THE STOW AWAY.
Liz and Lucia were well known among the small group of cats who called the docks and surrounding campgrounds home. They were particularly savvy with humans, and knew some of the regulars so well they could sneak aboard their boats with ease.
As they fell asleep in their corner of the lighthouse each night, Lucia would talk of her dreams to explore—to go wherever those huge boats were going. Liz thought she was ridiculous—to her, they had everything they could ever want right here.
But on that fateful spring day, Lucia had finally convinced Liz to stowaway on a boat with her, to see where it would take them. Liz would have done anything for her mate, and reminded herself of that fact as she reluctantly climbed aboard the boat that would seal her fate.
As the boat raised anchor and started to slowly drift toward the open water, Lucia suddenly bolted from her side. Liz was quick to follow, but her mate was already perched at the edge of the boat, preparing to jump back onto the dock.
“What are you doing! This was your idea!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I--”
Before she could explain, she leapt—her claws just barely made contact with the last wood piling and she scrambled up it, casting a pleading look back at the cat she left behind.
But as the boat moved farther and farther from the dock, Liz’s paws seemed to become heavier and heavier. The jump alone was terrifying, but the shock of what had just happened was what rooted her to the edge of the boat.
It would be ok—most boats stayed at their dock more than one day. She’d be back before sundown.
Yes, she’d be back.
PART 3: THE CASTAWAY.
As the boat docked, Liz was disappointed to find that her surroundings didn’t look all that different—same trees, same rocks, just fewer humans and human things. It made her even angrier with Lucia, who had painted such a fantastical picture of the world beyond the water.
Surely, there had to be more than this! She decided she’d make her mate feel extra bad about ditching her by finding her a souvenir—something they didn’t have back on their shore. She leapt off the boat while the human family was still meandering about below deck and set off in search of the perfect gift.
The human campgrounds she came across were unsettling, at best—most of them looked like they hadn’t been touched in seasons. Still, she pressed on, stubborn determination keeping her from turning back. Finally, she found it—a patch of orange flowers she had never seen before, bright like the summer sun. She tried to grab the pretty, papery blooms in her jaws, but grabbed one of the hard, dried flower pods too, spilling the small seeds into her mouth. Annoyed, but not willing to put her flowers down, she didn’t bother to spit them out.
Unaware that she had just ingested a mess of poppy seeds, Liz trotted back toward the boat with an extra spring in her step—that is, until the seeds started to kick in.
It had been a long day, and families took their boats out for the whole day...surely a few minutes of shut-eye would be fine. Letting the flowers fall gently from her maw, she curled up under the nearest tree and closer her eyes.
When she opened them again, it was pitch dark. Jolted awake, she sprinted toward the shore, but it was too late—the boat was gone. She ran up and down the shore, but the white hull was nowhere to be found. She searched ‘til the sun came up, and she was too exhausted to go on. The orange petals were right where she left them.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to seasons, and still no boats came back to the small dock. Every day, twice a day, she sits at the dock and stares out at the water, waiting for the boat that will take her home. Back to Lucia.
Does she even want me back? Did she jump off that boat hoping to get rid of me?
It’s not a thought she can afford to think. Without something—someone to live for, was her life even worth living?
PRESENT DAY
During her first seasons on the island, Liz was desperate to leave, nearly drowning during several attempts to swim or float away on a piece of driftwood. After moons of trying and endless disappointment, Liz has become a bitter, pessimistic cat, with little to no hope of actually accomplishing her goal. Instead, she has finally seemed to resign herself to island life.
Over the moons, she discovered she wasn't alone—rather far from it, actually. She has general knowledge of the three clans from observing them and the occasional curt conversation with a fellow "loner", a title she finds quite fitting.
Instead of spending all her time devising new ways to get off the island, she has picked up her old collection hobby. There are few shiny human objects to steal here, so shells, bones, and rocks have to do. Not flowers, though—turns out flower collecting is a bit of a dangerous hobby. She confirmed her suspicion about the poppy seeds with a second taste-test, and found they knocked her out in the same way.
The same seed that got her stuck on this stupid island is now the only thing keeping her sane. She's been desperate enough to sneak into clan territory for more, and it's only a matter of time before she's caught.
